I'll Be Home for Winter's Veil
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: Amid the darkness of the Burning Legion's return, heroes of Azeroth join together to celebrate the festival of Winter's Veil. Both Alliance and Horde POVs. Most, if not all, of my Warcraft alts appear in this story (with two small cameos). Semi-canon but mostly just a for-fun fluff-fic. Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

**(AN: Okay, so I had initially planned to write a story based around Legion, where I rebutted all the lore retcons and flat-out stupid moments in it. But then I had a really great revelation; all on tumblr, there are dozens of talented artists making illustrations of their _World of Warcraft_ characters. I can't draw and I have no money wherewith to commission them, but I can write. And I thought I would throw together a cute, silly little "what if" scenario, which was basically "what would happen if the _WoW_ characters of myself and my brother got together for Winter's Veil?")**

 **(As it might go, this will be a very short story - like less than ten chapters. The characters here are mostly of my own creations and will appear in my stories. So here you'll get an early introduction to a few of them - as well as a re-introduction to some familiar faces. And there will be Horde characters as well, for those of you who were worried that I might focus on the Alliance only this time and slight my roots [my main is on the Horde])**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The Violet City of Dalaran was dressed up in its finest colors with the anticipation of the coming of Winter's Veil. A tradition held both among the Dwarves and the Tauren, and therefore universally kept by both the Alliance and the Horde, it was a time where many families got together in feasting and celebration. For many in Azeroth this year, however, things were neither merry nor bright. They had lost loved ones at the Broken Shore, or in the flood of demonic invasions across the Eastern Kingdoms, Kalimdor, Pandaria, and the Broken Isles. Yet despite all of this loss, the Kirin Tor had permitted the trappings of Winter's Veil to be hung up around Dalaran, as was tradition; it was a sign for them that, though dark times had fallen upon Azeroth, the next year held the promise of renewal and rejeuvenation.

Melissa Redmane was at a seat in the Hero's Rest Tavern in the Greyfang Enclave. Elyssa could take care of things at the Netherlight Temple while she went to Stormwind to spend time with her family. For now, however, she was more than a little busy. She had to write a letter to Light's Hope Chapel to remind her daughter, named for her childhood friend Hannah, to be home in time for Winter's Veil. She also had a list that felt a mile long of all the shopping and cooking that she would have to do. Most of the shopping had been completed, thank the Light. But the cooking was still a trial in and of itself.

Her time living with the Redmanes, while she was betrothed to Tharbin, had given her the skills she needed to cook food. While she was still learning, the issue here was volume. For herself, she ate enough during the year to keep herself healthy and was so active that she had gained little weight, in spite of having given birth to three children. But making food for a family of five was a great task.

She looked at the list and suddenly gasped. At least six items from the gift list hadn't been purchased yet; and half of them were for her family! She buried her face in her palm; already she felt bad for being away from them almost non-stop since being summoned to Dalaran to fight the Burning Legion. Now she would be disappointing them again!

 _No,_ she reminded herself. _Just breathe. They'll be more than thankful to have you back home with them. You don't need to beat yourself over the head about this._

Melissa chanced to look up and saw Leshara, her Draenei warrior friend, sitting off by herself drinking in a corner of the tavern. Her heart went out to the Draenei; she had seen firsthand what she had gone through on Argus recently and it made her sorry. Everyone else had someone to be with on Winter's Veil, but not her. And now especially, the sting of solitude would be greater. She stuffed her list into the satchel that hanged from her shoulder and approached her friend.

"Leshara," she greeted. "Hey there! It's been a while. How are you?"

"Oh, hello," Leshara returned. "I wish I could say that all is well. But, well, I'm not feeling very spirited lately. You know about what happened..."

"Yes, I do," Melissa replied. "Which is why I'd like to invite you to spend Winter's Veil with me and my family. I mean, you haven't got anyone to spend Winter's Veil with, and we'd love to have you over."

Leshara's face turned from a frown to a slight smile. "I was going to go drinking with Varlaine and his companions..."

"Bring them with you!" Melissa found herself saying. By the Light, what had gotten into her?

"Do you truly mean it?" Leshara asked.

Now she couldn't take back her offer, so she might as well follow through with it. "Of course! The more the merrier. After all, Marion Sledgeheart is always good company."

"Then yes, I would love to spend Winter's Veil with you and your family," Leshara returned. Her blue eyes flashed to the note that was sticking out of Melissa's satchel. "Busy shopping this Winter's Veil?"

Melissa chuckled sarcastically. "You have no idea! Now I've just realized that I left off a few things from my list. I don't know what I'm going to do about these..."

"I could talk to Bart," Leshara said. "I'm sure he'd be willing to conjure up a few of the items you need."

"Thank the Light!" Melissa exclaimed. Suddenly it didn't seem so bad that she had invited Leshara over for Winter's Veil. "That's a weight off my shoulders. Thank you so much, Leshara."

"It's my pleasure," the Draenei said. "Now, then, I will go seek out Bart and Abner. They'd be delighted to hear about this. Let me have your shopping list so I can give it to Bart."

Melissa gave Leshara the shopping list, then bade farewell for the moment as Leshara went off to pay her tab. Meanwhile, Melissa returned to her table and heaved a heavy sigh. If feeding five was a chore, feeding a small army would be nigh impossible; aside from her family, Abner Varlaine and his two companions would be coming along with Leshara, Bart would certainly be there, along with his ward (and that warlock he had mentioned). Also she had invited good Elder Clarkston and Jenassa Duskwatcher, the latter of whom had told her that she would be bringing someone with her. Fifteen people would be too much to endure! How ever could she cook for them all?

Suddenly a new thought came into her head. She made her swift way to the court of the Greyfang Enclave, hoping that the portal to Summer's Rest was still open.

* * *

Cool, clean air blew in the mountains around the grasslands of Mulgore. Most of the high mountains were covered in snow, for winter was well on its way, even here in the desert. Out on the plains lay the mesas upon which sat Thunder Bluff, the home of the Tauren. Upon the cool wind rang the sounds of drums as they welcomed the coming of new life after the passing of Winter's Veil.

In the high mountains on the northern edge of Mulgore there was a cave high up in the mountains. It was completely inaccessible from the valley floor, and only those who knew how to fly could reach this isolated place. At the mouth of the cave was a small shelf which looked out upon the emerald grasslands below. Here there sat a lone brown Tauren dressed in the shoveltusk armor of the frost-witches of Northrend. He sat by himself at a small camp-fire, watching the thin wisps of gray smoke trailing up into the sky. As his brown eyes looked upward, he saw a large blue-gray bat flapping its way down to the mouth of the cave. As it landed, the bat furled its wings in on itself and disappeared into a puff of smoke. The smoke dissipated and there crouched a troll with blue-green skin and red hair, clad in clothing that looked like tree bark.

"How you doin', mon?" the Troll greeted; he had a baritone voice and spoke in broken Common.

"Greetings, Zen'jamba," the Tauren replied, his voice deep and grim. "It's been a while."

"Still be wanderin'?" asked Zen'jamba. "What be da purpose o' dis?"

"There is no place for me," sighed the Tauren.

"Not eben here in Mulgore?"

"No," the Tauren shook his large, horned head. "Even as a youth, I found no place among my fellow Tauren."

"There be always a place for ya wit us, mon," quoth Zen'jamba.

"For how long, my old friend?" asked the Tauren. "If you knew what I knew, you would be doubting your allegiance to the Horde as well, especially now that Sylvanas is Warchief."

"Hey, mon," Zen'jamba interjected. "I be not havin' much love for dat rottin' elf witch meself. But we believe in hona just as you Tauren and da Orcs do. We still gonna hona our allegiance to da Horde. Hmm, but come now. Put aside ya feelings o' doubt. It be Winter's Veil, no? I know it 'ave more meanin' to ya dan for da rest o' us."

"For my people," said the Tauren. "And for myself, as a shaman. Yes, Winter's Veil does have great significance." He sighed. "Alas, I have none to celebrate it with. I have not seen the older Wolfrunner in many years, not since we walked the Barrens together, before the Cataclysm. Aerastrasza has been flying on her own for many weeks; she hasn't spoken to me since the death of Ysera."

"Dat be why I spent all dis time lookin' for ya," Zen'jamba said. "Come to Orgrimmar and celebrate Winter's Veil wit me. Dere be some old faces dare, maybe some old friends ya be missin'? I even be convincin' da great Chen Stormstout ta feast wit us. You know 'ow much fun dat old bear can be. He always bring da best brews."

The Tauren chuckled. "Oh, I miss Chen." He then paused for a moment of thought, pensively stroking one the three braided beards upon his long bovine chin. "Yes, I believe I will visit you."

"Excellent," said Zen'jamba. "Don't be takin' ya time, Gar. Odderwise all da food be gone by da time ya be showin' up!"

Gar smiled. "Yes, I will do my best to be there swiftly."

Gar watched as Zen'jamba turned back into a bat and dove off the cliffs into a free fall before flapping his great wings, flying upward and overhead, eastward back to Orgrimmar. The Tauren laughed; Era would have loved doing something like that, as he would have. Again he sighed, missing his old companion. She had been with him since the end of the Cataclysm, and had been at his side throughout the madness that was Pandaria, the trip back in time to the Draenor of the past, and had reunited with him in Dalaran to fight the Legion together.

But these thoughts were leading to sadness, and instead he sighed them away; he wondered who else he would see with Zen'jamba at Orgrimmar for Winter's Veil.

* * *

 **(AN: So here is the little bit for now. For most of you, this will be your first time meeting Leshara, since her formal introduction in the story that I mentioned before hasn't happened yet - as that story hasn't been published yet. Gar you have met, and he is my main, which is why I don't give him a lot of attention. He is more of a background character who moves in and out of other people's adventures, which mirrors my own experiences in WoW: never a meaningful part of a guild, always just solo adventuring. Wolfrunner is the only exception. Aerastrasza is the Lifebinder's Handmaiden - which I don't actually have in-game, and neither have I the Blazing Drake [lol] - and she does have a "smaller form" which she takes when she is with my main [at least my head-canon says so]. As you saw, her name is pronounced "era-strasza". I'm very particular about pronunciation. I threw her into my main's adventures in order to have someone he could talk with on his journeys, if he ever appears; also my main does have Invincible for real in-game, but though it's more than appropriate, since my main has the blue Frostwitch set as his transmog AND I started playing during _Wrath of the Lich King_ , lore-wise it didn't make sense for a Tauren shaman to be riding Invincible, so I gave him something/one just as epic but closer to his element.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**(AN: I feel like I should have said at the beginning that I don't own _Warcraft_ or any of the characters and situations from it; they're all by Blizzard. Oh well, now that I have...let's have another chapter, shall we?)**

 **(This is also one of my first non-explicit and generally non-violent fics. I will only use one four-letter word since I'm trying to keep it from getting too bad. Hope that you all enjoy it)**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

If any doubt remained in Melissa's mind about the truth and efficacy of the Light, they were most certainly dispelled once she arrived at Summer's Rest. She did not have to search long to find Xingwei Marshpaw, an old Pandaren acquaintance of hers from her time in this land. Years ago, she had confided in her some of her own story. The Pandaren found it intriguing, but was not wholly moved by her defense of the Alliance. Now, however, things had changed. After the Legion invaded Pandaria, the Pandaren's ancient tradition of non-involvement in the affairs of Azeroth ended: apparently it was no longer possible for them to criticize the Alliance and the Horde from their soft, cushy arm-chairs once the Burning shadow was cast over their lost continent.

Melissa found Xing standing over a large steamer, doing the one thing that they both could appreciate: cooking. Melissa waved her down and the Pandaren momentarily left the steamer and walked over to Melissa to give her a huge bear-hug. Not her usual behavior, yes, but some things had changed.

"It's so good to see you again, Redmane," Xingwei greeted. "When I heard about the Broken Shore, I feared the worst. Then all these demons appeared in Pandaria and I was truly worried! Thank the Jade Serpent that there are warriors fighting these demons, and that you're alive and well! Oh, but you're still so skinny! Just wait until these dumplings have finished steaming, I'll serve you some."

Melissa chuckled. It seemed that little had changed, and even the threat of invasion by the Legion hadn't taken the edge of the healthy appetite of the Pandaren (though it had made her hug her, which was an unusual gesture among Pandaren).

"Actually, I'm here for you and your cooking skills," Melissa said.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Melissa continued. "Well, you see, I'm having a lot of people over at our house in Stormwind for Winter's Veil, and there's not enough cooks to make all the food that we'll be eating. I know you're not from the Wandering Isle, and therefore have no strong desire to leave Pandaria, but I really need..."

"Say no more," Xing replied, holding up her paw. "I will most gladly help with your cooking. I consider it an honor that you'd ask me to cook for you and your family and friends."

"Thank you, Xing," Melissa returned.

"Also," Xing added. "I would very much like to know more about this Winter's Veil. We don't really have a winter in the interior of Pandaria; only up in the Kun-Lai Mountains is there ever snow. And your customs are still very strange to us."

"Perfect," Melissa said. "It'll be your first Winter's Veil."

"I would very much like that," Xing said.

"Excellent," Melissa smiled. "Now, then, about those dumplings. I'll wait here until you've finished them, then maybe once you're done, we can head on to Stormwind and get started with the cooking."

"Oh, nonsense," Xing returned. "If we cook together, we can get these dumplings done faster. You are learned in the Way of the Steamer, yes? Come, help me with these dumplings, then we can go to Stormwind together."

* * *

Somewhere in Andorhal, however, things were neither merry nor bright. What was left of the Argent Crusade that hadn't been wiped out at the Broken Shore were still entrenched in their battle against the Forsaken to retake northern Lordaeron. Soon there would be war in Azeroth again, and the long years of planning to retake the Kingdom of Lordaeron for the Alliance would come to fruition. But for now, there were still those who fought on their ancient battle, regardless of the coming of the Legion or of Winter's Veil.

Yet even in their hearts, they knew of the coming seasonal holiday and would celebrate it in their own way.

For Florenica Cross, however, there was no time for celebrating. The House of Vander, to which she belonged to as a little girl, had been wiped out during the Great Fire of Stormwind. Randalmar Cross, who had taken her into his home and treated her like a daughter, had disappeared several years ago to join the pirates of the South Sea. As for herself, SI:7 did not make much in the way of a family. They had her back in the most dangerous missions that she had undertaken throughout Azeroth, but they technically didn't exist. They had no attachments or connections outside of the organization, and therefore she was working to protect the Alliance even during Winter's Veil.

But even now, as she flitted between the ruined houses of Andorhal, in the portion that belonged to the Forsaken, she longed for something else; something better. She stopped inside an abandoned house in the ruined section to think. She still vaguely remembered life with her old family, and the Winter's Veil parties the House of Vander would throw; always very lavish, they had been a rather wealthy family. Truly, though she lived life on the run all the year long and was often on the SI:7's secret service, she had never grown out of that life. She missed having family, someone to come home to and spend time with on Winter's Veil.

Suddenly her sharp hearing caught the sound of something approaching from behind her; in this part of Andorhal, it was without a doubt one of the Forsaken. Swiftly she removed a knife from her belt and threw it at the sound. It struck the wall just inches away from a Forsaken assassin dressed in black.

"Still quick on your toes," the assassin replied. "Always liked that about you."

"Shouldn't you be robbing a grave somewhere, Mardenholde?" Florenica retorted. "Or threatening little children?"

"Tempting, but I'm on the Dark Lady's service," said the assassin; Hannah Mardenholde. "And that means killing you."

"If you can catch me, that is," Florenica retorted. She threw a small smoke bomb on the floor, then swiftly leaped from the table in the house up onto the rafters above.

"And what are you doing in my house?" Mardenholde asked.

"Your house?" Florenica returned, leaping to another rafter just as soon as she saw the undead below look towards where she had been. "Nobody's lived here since the plague ravaged these lands in the Third War."

"Where do you think I came from, huh?" Mardenholde retorted. With one gloved hand, she reached for the knife that was stuck in the boards of the wall. "You dropped something." With one swift motion, she pulled the knife from the wall and threw it towards Florenica. The human agent seized the knife just moments before it struck her face.

"Close, but not close enough," Florenica said, returning the knife to her belt.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Mardenholde growled. "Get out of my house or I'll stop playing our little game and kill you."

"Oh, so now you're going to try to kill me?" Florenica quipped. "And when you threw the knife in my face, you were just playing?"

"I knew you'd catch it," Mardenholde retorted. "But this time, there won't be any trying."

"Let me show you what 'not trying' looks like," Florenica stated. She descended from the rafters with a swing, both feet landing squarely on Mardenholde's chest, throwing her onto her back. She hopped back onto her feet, drew one of her long knives, and held it to Mardenholde's neck. But even as she placed her knife at the undead's throat, the Forsaken assassin had her knife at Florenica's throat.

"That's not trying for you," she retorted.

"Kill me, then," Mardenholde said. "Grant me the sweet release of death."

For the first time since she had began this rivalry with Mardenholde, Florenica froze. It would be right and just to end the existence of this monstrosity. The Forsaken were no different than the Scourge. She even wanted it! But a new thought came into her heart that she hadn't thought of before until now.

"Any other day, I'd take you up on that offer," Florenica answered. "But it's Winter's Veil, and I'm feeling sentimental." She removed her dagger from Mardenholde's neck and rose to her feet.

"Too bad for you," Mardenholde said. But Florenica guessed that her arch-enemy would do just that and redrew her dagger and brandished it to fend off the assassin.

"Dammit, you said you lived here before!" Florenica retorted. "That means you were human once. Don't you remember what it was like, being human?"

"I should kill you for that," Mardenholde hissed.

"But you won't, will you?" Florenica stated. "You were human once, weren't you? You remember what it was like, to have a family, to have friends. You remember having Winter's Veil parties before, didn't you? For so many years, you and I have been fighting; just for once, just for laughs, let's not kill each other, huh?"

The undead hesitated, her dagger shaking in her trembling hand.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" she asked. "How do I know you won't just stab me in the back once I lower my knife?"

"Because I'm not like you," Florenica replied. "Because it's Winter's Veil and I have no one to spend it with. Granted, you're not exactly my first choice, but you're all I have."

Mardenholde began to lower her dagger, but then returned it back to pointing at Florenica. "Alright, then. I'll agree to a truce because it's Winter's Veil. But once it's over, it's open season again."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Florenica answered.

Mardenholde awkwardly lowered her dagger. "So, what do we do?"

"Well, we can't exactly have a feast here," Florenica said.

"And I wouldn't want one even if we could," said Mardenholde. "I don't eat your kind of food."

"But you do eat, don't you?"

"Human flesh," Mardenholde replied. "I don't think you'd have the stomach for long pork."

"Do you drink?" Florenica asked.

"A little," Mardenholde answered.

"Well," Florenica said, her lips pressed into a smile while her tongue rolled around the inside of her mouth. "There'll be a Winter's Veil celebration up at Hearthglen. They should have some eggnog over there."

"Good," Mardenholde said. "Stay here until I get back. If you're not here, the truce is off." With that, the undead disappeared out the door before Florenica could even say "We could just ask."

 _I can't believe I just did that,_ Florenica thought to herself. _I just told my arch-enemy how to steal from the Argent Crusade._

* * *

 **(AN: It was pushing the boundaries with that last part a bit. I mean, Mardenholde - and the undead for that matter - aren't exactly kid-friendly. But I think we get to see a glimpse of this undead assassin at her best. I wonder how anyone will think of Florenica [one of my brother's alts: a human rogue]. She's not as straight-laced as Melissa, nor as amoral as Mardenholde. She was formerly the daughter of a rich family and so has a bratty, sarcastic streak, as you could see with her interaction with Mardenholde. The idea of having these two call a Christmas truce came from the Christmas truce of World War I - because 2017 is the 100th anniversary of the end of WWI, and because that was brought back to my mind with the _Doctor Who_ Christmas special [i'm actually interested in where the 13th Doctor will go])**

 **(I might just wrap up this fic-let in one big third chapter that will show everyone all together and having fun for Winter's Veil.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**(AN: This is the last chapter of this tiny fic-let, in which I throw most of the characters I and my brother created. Some have been left out, mostly because death knights really aren't good at all. Both my brother and I have been playing through the death knight order hall campaign and they don't come across as good in any way at all, not even a small way. They're the ghost of Winter's Veil future. But aside from that, there are so many characters thrown in here and you get no time to meet any of them or know more about them. If I am able to continue my Warcraft fanfic universe, they will appear and be in more dire straits than you see here.)**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

A knock was heard at the door of the little two-story house in the Old Town of Stormwind. From down the stairs came two young children, a boy and a girl; the girl had red hair and the boy's was a few shades lighter. The boy was a year or so older than the girl, but they both bore the resemblance of their father and mother. Both of them ran to the door and began quarreling among themselves about who would open it first and guessing who might be on the other end of the door. Two sets of hands turned the knob and pulled the door back. Standing before them was a young girl with flaming red hair and dressed in the colors of the squires of the Silver Hand; behind her was a Dwarf woman, also with red hair and many years older than the squire, but shorter than her.

"Hannah!" the boy and girl squealed as they gave their big sister a big hug.

"Tal, Mary!" giggled Hannah Redmane. "Oh, I've missed you two so much! Where's mom and dad? Are they here yet?"

"Dad's bringing home some wood for the fireplace," Talus, the boy, replied. "Mom hasn't come back yet."

"Can we come in?" Hannah asked. "I'm starving."

"Who's that?" Maryem, the little girl, asked, pointing to the Dwarf.

"This is my instructor," Hannah said. "She's been training me to be a Paladin one day. This is Marion Sledgeheart."

"Hi there!" the Dwarf greeted.

"I heard all Dwarves have beards," Maryem asked. "Where's your beard?"

"I havenae got a beard, ye wee lass," Marion chuckled, tussling Maryem's hair. "That's just a story!"

The four of them walked into the house, which was sparsely decorated for Winter's Veil. Hannah took her instructor's hooded cloak and hung it on one of the hooks that were nailed on the wall by the door.

"What's with all ye?" Marion asked. "Why are there nae decorations up yet?"

"We're waiting until mom and dad get home," Talus said.

"It's always been that way," Hannah added.

"But what about the tree?" Marion inquired. "Ye always gotta have a tree for Winter's Veil."

"Mom said she'd get one," Maryem said.

"A bit late, innit?" Marion asked.

"It's fine," Hannah said. "The important thing is that we all get to spend Winter's Veil together." Talus and Maryem went back upstairs while Hannah spoke to her instructor. "I was surprised that my mom's letter got to you so soon. What with all the people going to and fro during Winter's Veil, you'd think the Postmaster would be snowed in!"

Marion laughed. "Aye, lass."

Hannah was about to close the door behind them when she saw someone on the street coming towards their house. With happiness in her face and excitement in her voice, she turned back to look up the stairs and call her brother and sister back down. Melissa was making her way to the door, but no sooner had she passed through than she was rushed and hugged by her children. She hugged and kissed each one in turn.

"I'm so happy to be home!" Melissa exclaimed. "I've missed you all so much."

"We've missed you too, mommy." Maryem said.

Melissa had to move them out of the way as Xingwei came in behind her, carrying a large sack of food on her back. She introduced her children to the large Pandaren, who managed to spare a paw to pat them each on the end. Melissa then directed Xingwei to the kitchen, then she turned back to her children.

"Now Xing and I are going to start preparing the food for tonight," Melissa said. "I want you to make some room here in the living room. I think we might run out of chairs at the table. When you're finished, Hannah, come into the kitchen and give us a hand, if you will?"

"Yes, mom," Hannah replied.

"I can help," Marion interjected.

"Oh no!" interjected Melissa. "You're a guest, I wouldn't ask you to help with the preparations. Um, you can sit here in the living room and answer the door." She paused to make her way over to Marion and mutter in her ear: "I'll have Tharbin bring along some spirits later. We'll drink once the kids are asleep; is that alright with you?"

"Well enough," Marion nodded.

Melissa went back to the kitchen to begin cooking with Xing. The afternoon was only half-way over, but as night came soon in winter, it would be dark in a matter of only two hours. They would not begin their feast until the bell tolled the hour of seven. For the next three hours, however, there was plenty of cooking to be done and time enough for their guests to arrive.

The next guest to arrive was Jenassa Duskwatcher. She was a tall Night Elven huntress with hair the color of twilight shade, with green leaves in her hair. She rarely left Kalimdor, as she was one of the Sentinels who defended the Night Elven forests of Ashenvale. The Night Elf made her presence known and Melissa told her to make herself comfortable.

The arrival of the men-folk was a bit more of an ordeal. Tharbin answered the door and told them to make way; behind him stood a very frustrated Abner Varlaine who was carrying a large pine tree while a noble-looking High Elf stood by, refusing to lend a hand.

"Oh, dear!" Melissa exclaimed when she saw her husband at the door. "What happened to the wood you were supposed to bring for the fire?"

"Leshara found us and offered to bring that over," Tharbin replied. "Has anyone else arrived yet? We're gonna need some help with this tree."

"I'll help," Marion offered.

"Why isn't that Quel'dorei helping you?" Jenassa asked.

"I am not a servant boy!" the High Elf retorted. "I came here to eat food, drink ale, and celebrate the feast of Winter's Veil, not coat myself in tree-sap!"

"A little tree-sap never hurt anyone," Jenassa returned.

"Says the tree-hugging Kal'dorei!" quoth the High Elf. "Besides, it will take forever to get it out of my hair!"

"Setheras, can you decide to be helpful for a change?" Abner Varlaine retorted.

"I help if and where it is needed," said Setheras, the High Elf. "You don't seem to be needing any help."

"Here, I'll help," Jenassa offered.

It took two men, a Dwarf, and a Night Elf working together to get the tree into the living room of the Redmane house. Once it was in, Tharbin and Abner set the tree upright. Jenassa wasn't very keen on the use of a tree, and mused why the Gnomes couldn't create a false one without damaging any real trees.

"The Horde already does much damage to our forests back home in Ashenvale," Jenassa said. "Things could be done differently here, you know."

"Ach, you're starting to sound like 'im," Marion groaned, gesturing to Setheras.

Tharbin called Talus and Maryem down and told them to help decorate the tree while he sat down with the newcomers and Jenassa. Abner, Setheras, and Marion had formerly been of the Scarlet Crusade and had only returned to the Alliance during the Northrend campaign. Abner was a grizzled man somewhere in his forties, with reddish brown hair, a scruffy beard, and more than a few scars upon his face. Setheras was the opposite; a clean-faced High Elf with long, silky hair the color of nightfall and eyes that glowed blue. These three had proven faithful to the Crusade and Setheras and Marion had survived numerous purges from their leadership that had culled many others of their races from their ranks. Tharbin asked them about goings on in Lordaeron and if the restoration was going smoothly.

Night had already fallen and Melissa was worried that the rest of their guests wouldn't arrive in time. Twenty minutes passed after the hour of six and still they hadn't arrived. Another three minutes and the long-awaited knock was heard at the door. No sooner had young Talus opened the door when several presents in bright-colored wrapping paper came floating through the door. Atop a rather large one sat Bartholomax Manafizzle, a Gnome with a long dark beard and curled whiskers. Talus and Maryem cheered with delight at the tiny mage's impressive display of his magical powers. Behind him there entered a dark-haired Gnome woman carrying a rather small sack that seemed to be disproportionately heavy to its small size; this was Fizzle Bangratchet, also called 'Fizzie' for short, the ward of Bart Manafizzle. After her there came two humans hooded and cloaked. One was a woman with dark skin and jet black hair, while the other was a middle-aged man with a very plain, unassuming face and bald head.

These last two hadn't met each other and were eying the other suspiciously. The man was good Elder Lionel Clarkston; he was a priest and was known to Melissa, who saw him regularly at the Netherlight Temple. The woman was named Tia Rowan, and aside from a subtle mention of her as a magician by Bart, little else was known about who she was or what she did.

Behind them came Leshara, who completed the merry little throng. Once they were inside, Bart directed the presents that he was levitating to come to rest under the tree, only to notice at the last minute that he was going face-first towards a large branch. He rolled off the present and fell on the floor, which brought laughter from the children of Melissa and Tharbin (who were normal-sized for children their ages, but taller than both Bart and Fizzie). Once the presents were placed under the tree, Fizzie set down her little bag and asked for someone bigger and stronger than her to help: within the magically enhanced bag were cords of wood that were easily as long as she was tall. Marion gave the little Gnome a hand.

"How'd ye manage to carry them logs, if'n they're as big as ye are?" Marion exclaimed.

"Bart enchanted the bag," Fizzie said. "He made it much bigger on the inside, but also made it much lighter than normal."

While they were unloading logs and placing them by the fireplace, Leshara walked into the kitchen. She banged her horns against the ceiling, which hadn't been built for a seven foot tall Draenei woman, and muttered something in her native language while gingerly stroking her horns: as a rule, Draenei women are very particular about the state of their horns. She then turned to Melissa once she was inside the kitchen.

"There you are!" she said. "It was rather difficult, but I believe we got everything you needed for your list."

"Excellent!" Melissa exclaimed. "We're almost done in here, why don't you go into the living room with the others. We're almost ready."

Truly enough, they were in fact almost ready. In the living room, Abner was talking to Setheras, Clarkston and Tia about a particularly troublesome hunt he had been on these past few months. Jenassa was fixing a wreath that had fallen down from its place. Bart had cast a levitating spell on a sprig of mistletoe that was now hovering above his head, and Fizzie was trying hard to stifle peals of laughter. Marion was recounting to the children the true story of Winter's Veil.

"Greatfather Winter brings the season o' cold and frost to the lands o' Azeroth," Marion said. "Legend has it that he was one o' the Titans, the ancient beings who created Dwarves, Gnomes, Humans, and all o' Azeroth. As he walks across the land..."

"Flies," Setheras added. "That's what the reindeer are for."

"Don't give me none o' that goblin malarkey!" Marion interjected. "Now then, flies or walks, it dinnae matter; he brings winter over the land. Most folk are afraid of him, and hide in their homes in winter, shiverin' and shakin', as they wait for spring to come again. But the wise folk know that winter brings new life and new things. Those who welcome his coming are blessed with bounty in the coming year; that is why we get together and feast."

Melissa suddenly noticed a bearded face plant a kiss upon her cheek. She turned and saw that Tharbin had nabbed some of Bart's magically enchanted mistletoe and held it above their heads. She blushed and chuckled, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed their lips together.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. All eyes turned towards the door. Who could it be? Everyone else was here and accounted for. Who could possibly show up for their feasting? Jenassa rose up and came to the door.

"Don't worry, it's my guest," she said with slight annoyance in her voice. Jenassa was usually very punctual, almost to a fault. She opened the door and invited in her guest. Melissa was surprised to see who it was, for it was most certainly not Anara Chillwind, whom she had expected Jenassa to bring.

Instead, there stood Felara Nightborne, one of the insufferably arrogant Illidari: Melissa had dealings with them ever since the Legion's return and knew just how insufferably pompous and arrogant they were, defiant even. This one, however, she had met before. Felara was about the same height as Jenassa and her hair also was raven black, but her eyes were bound in a black cloth; her body, usually visibly showing off her fel-tattoos, was covered in a thick cloak to keep out the cold; all that remained of her demonic taint were the horns that grew from her head.

"Ish'nu alla," Felara greeted.

"This is an unexpected surprise," Melissa commented. Jenassa gestured towards the kitchen and mouthed 'I'll explain later', but then led Felara to a seat among the others.

"Welcome," Tia greeted. "It's an honor to have you with us."

"Perhaps," Felara replied, turning her blind-folded eyes towards Tia. Her long brows furrowed in disgust.

Jenassa whispered something into Felara's ear, then made her way through the guests, ducking as Bart sent up blue and violet arcane sparks to the amusement of the children, and gestured for Melissa to follow her into the kitchen.

"Alright, what's going on?" Melissa asked. "Why is she here?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was bringing," Jenassa said. "Look, I remember what happened in Felwood, when you went in search of the truth about Illidan. You and I both know what he and his ilk have done; and I would be the first one to view the Illidari with the distrust that they have earned for themselves. But Felara is different; she has her doubts about the things Illidan has done, as I'm sure she told you."

Melissa nodded.

"She's also less arrogant about her past sins. I would daresay that she truly does recognize the depth of what she did. She claims that she now serves Azeroth rather than herself. I...I would like to believe that she speaks truth, and so have invited her to take part of our Winter's Veil feast. I mean, after all, isn't that what this is all about? Renewal and rebirth? What better way to show that than to offer Felara a chance at a new life among our people again?"

Melissa sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. After everything we went through on Argus, and the way the Illidari carry themselves, it's never easy having one of them around. I'll agree to this."

"Thank you, high priest," Jenassa bowed.

"Now then, if you'd like to help me," Melissa said. "The food is almost ready."

A great feast had been prepared, courtesy of Melissa and Xingwei. There was enough ham and cheese to sink a ship, as well as flaming pudding and warm cider. In addition to this, Bart conjured many magical treats which he gave out to all those about. Furthermore, Xing had added a little treat of her own; a red bean bun that was mildly sweet but surprisingly delicious. There were so many people that they could not all fit at the table, and so Bart had to summon a floating magical table for them to sit around and eat at. No one refused a second helping of anything; some of them (like Marion and Xing) even went so far as to ask for thirds.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, then came the presents. Melissa and Tharbin had to go upstairs to fetch those which she had managed to buy, while the rest (and more than a few others) were under the tree. When they came back down, they were greeted with enthusiastic cheers from all those around them. As was the tradition in the Redmane family, several festive "gag gifts" were first passed out among those gathered here. Among them included several gaudy sweaters, red caps with white fur lining topped with a white poof-ball on top, and reindeer antlers made of felt. Bart managed to use magic to place a pair of the felt antlers on Jenassa's head, after which he remarked that she looked like Malfurion Stormrage. Felara and Fizzie laughed, while Jenassa looked rather dissatisfied with their prank.

Then came the authentic gifts. Melissa was amazed to discover that her guests had brought gifts along with them for her and her family as well. These had been hidden away in the magically enhanced bag that Fizzie carried (which explains how, even with a feather enchantment, it was such a great weight), and were now being brought out. Leshara was a jeweler, as had her family been before the Horde waged war on the Draenei; she had prepared for all of them various trinkets of varying size and value, both intrinsic and magical. For Melissa, she had a citrine pendant that had been blessed by a Draenei anchorite.

"A gift for a servant of the Light," Leshara said. "May it serve you well."

"Thank you so much," Melissa returned. "I must say, how were you able to make all of these so quickly?"

"I have been working on them in my spare time throughout the year," Leshara replied.

Tharbin was given a ring whose sapphire had engraved upon it the emblem of Lordaeron; that he may carry the heritage of his people with him for all time. Bart and Fizzie were given each an amulet that hung from a cord about the neck; the amulet itself was shaped like a cog, with an amethyst slightly off-center. Each one only got half a cog, but they could be connected together and form one single cog. Abner received a spyglass, such as the Draenei hunters used, affixed with a magically enchanted quartz. Setheras received a slender circlet of silver wings set with sapphires. Marion received a prayer bead necklace with tiny gems at every sixth bead. Each of Melissa and Tharbin's children received a necklace with their birthstones in the center thereof; Hannah's was an opal. Xing received a pair of pearl earrings, while the earrings Tia was given were set with amethysts. Felara received an enchanted moonstone whose radiance could be felt; a gift to lead her back to the light of Elune. Jenassa's gift was a silver bracelet set with a sapphire and an amethyst and these words engraved in Darnassian, whose translation to the Common Tongue was this:

Blessings upon the Kal'dorei for their warm welcome of the Draenei upon their arrival to Azeroth.

The full count of the gifts that were given and exchanged was long indeed and exhaustive. Marion was a tinker, and therefore a lot of her gifts were such toys crafted after the fashion of Gnomish engineering. Bart was a scribe, so he had quite a few books to give to those about them; for Hannah he gave a catechism book, such that young Paladin initiates used to wield the Light to heal their allies and smite the undead. For Leshara, he had a book on the history of the Eastern Kingdoms. For Melissa, he gave another large, empty book and a new set of inks.

"A most useful gift from one scribe to another," he exclaimed.

Melissa's gifts were such things that were useful for each and every one of them. Those for her family were recently acquired, while those for the others she had meant to give them at one point or another but had more or less forgotten about them until now. Tharbin received a shield which had been emblazoned with the emblem of Lordaeron.

"Whatever the future holds for us, my love," Melissa said. "I know that you'll be safe, bearing the memory of our home with you wherever you go."

For Leshara, she gave her a beautician's stone which she could use for her horns and her hooves. The Scarlet Crusaders received such gifts: Abner received a shaving kit, Setheras a golden-polished mirror, and Marion a silver tankard.

"I cannae wait to try this out!" exclaimed the Dwarf happily.

Each of Melissa's children received something fun for themselves as well as something useful. As for Hannah, who was now fourteen years of age, Melissa gave to her a very special gift.

"This is one of Father Preston's catechism books on the Holy Light," Melissa said. "He gave it to me long ago, before you were born. I've transcribed what was written there, and used his wisdom in my notes. Now I pass this on to you; may it serve you well and dispel any lies you may hear in the future about the Light."

"That's a mighty gift, young Paladin," good Elder Clarkston spoke up. "I knew good Father Preston when I was no older than you are. His teachings helped me in my studies as a priest. Truly a worthy soul, may he rest in the Light."

The gift-giving continued, and for the moment Melissa dismissed herself, saying that she wanted to examine the drinks that were being prepared for later. She went not to the kitchen but up the stairs and looked out one of the windows that looked out to the north, towards Lordaeron. She wondered where her childhood friend, Hannah Mardenholde, was this season.

* * *

Night was falling upon Andorhal and still Florenica remained in the ruined house. Several times a Forsaken patrol had passed by the place, and she had to do her best to make herself scarce. By the time darkness started to fall, she had come to the conclusion that her nemesis had taken off and fled, and was now plotting her demise from somewhere in the shadows.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard the creaking of floor-boards coming from near the door. Turning there, she saw the dark-hooded figure of Mardenholde standing there, clutching something in her gloved hands.

"What took you so long?" Florenica asked.

"What, no thank you?" Mardenholde retorted in a huff. "It wasn't exactly a fast trip to Hearthglen, I'll have you know. Nor was breaking into the town either."

"Did you get it?"

The undead produced a large glass bottle filled with a milky yellow-white substance. Florenica's mood altered at the sight of the eggnog.

"Excellent," she smiled. "So, now, where shall we sit?"

"These chairs are rotten and will collapse under our weight," Mardenholde uttered. "Here on the floor is good enough. But light no fire, not even candles. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Florenica nodded. It would certainly be difficult to explain what they were doing here, and why they were not killing each other. They sat down now with their backs against the wall, and about a foot and a half of space between the two of them. Such a strange sight, these two arch-rivals, now seated together over a cup of holiday spirits.

"I don't suppose you thought of cups, did you?" Florenica asked. "I'm not drinking it straight from the bottle, not after you've touched it with your black lips."

"Do you have a problem with drinking after a corpse?" Mardenholde retorted and leaned in as if she would kiss Florenica. She leaned back in disgust.

"Yes, actually!" Florenica retorted.

"Hmph," snorted Mardenholde. "Well, in that case, there should be some cups around here somewhere." She placed the bottle down on the floor, then walked up and broke open a cupboard door from what was left of the nearby kitchen. The boards had dry-rotted and most of the dish-ware was broken or looted, but there were still two pewter cups that were in good condition. These Mardenholde brought back to Florenica, then returned to sit down at her right-hand side.

"You really have lived here before, haven't you?" Florenica asked.

"This was my house," Mardenholde said, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "I was going to live here with my husband, bear him many children, perhaps start a little apothecary shop, and live out the rest of my days in peace and happiness."

"What happened?" Florenica returned.

"I died," Mardenholde grimly replied. "Then I came back." She then removed the stopper from the bottle of eggnog and poured a measure of it into each cup.

"You should consider yourself quite fortunate," Mardenholde said, as she offered Florenica her cup.

"Why?" she asked. "Because I'm the first person you haven't killed?"

"I don't open up to people about my past," replied the Forsaken. "We undead never do; it's far too...painful. But it is Winter's Veil and, like you, I was feeling sentimental myself, especially being back here in my old house."

"To Winter's Veil!" Florenica said, raising her cup in toast. Mardenholde took up that toast and they downed their cups. Florenica winced as the alcohol burned her throat going down; she noticed, however, that Mardenholde didn't seem at all bothered by it.

"Did that do anything for you?" she asked.

"Not really," Mardenholde replied. "Strong drink doesn't burn the throat going down like it used to."

"Can you even get drunk anymore?" Florenica asked.

"I don't know," Mardenholde answered. "And I'm not keen on finding out. The Dark Lady would not be pleased to hear that I'm drunk on the job."

"What about the taste?" Florenica asked, as she took the bottle to pour them another round. "It's nice and creamy."

"I don't taste anymore," Mardenholde grimly said.

"Nothing at all?"

"You know those mashed potatoes they make at the Pilgrim's Bounty festival?" the undead asked. "Everything tastes like that. Bland and without savor. There's no joy for me in anything."

"Except killing?"

"Exactly. Let the whole world suffer the way I've suffered."

"That's really selfish, you know."

"And how is my killing any better than yours?" Mardenholde asked before taking a drink.

"Well, for one thing, I don't eat the people I kill," Florenica stated, then took a drink herself. "For another, I fight to protect people. You fight to make them suffer."

"I know all about SI:7," Mardenholde retorted. "Your organization has done more than a few questionable actions over the past."

"As have the Forsaken," Florenica stated.

"Watch what you say, now," Mardenholde interjected. "I'm under orders to kill anyone spreading false rumors about the Dark Lady."

"What false rumors?" Florenica asked.

"That she was somehow responsible for the Wrathgate Incident, for one thing," Mardenholde retorted. "It was Varimathras, everyone knows that." She reached for the bottle.

"If it's a false rumor, why kill for it?" Florenica asked. "Unless Varimathras really wasn't behind it..." The undead's hand moved from the bottle to the knife and brought it out in one swift motion and pressed the blade against Florenica's throat.

"Utter one more word against the Dark Lady," Mardenholde said. "And you're dead."

"Whatever you like, then," Florenica dismissed nominally; the undead's reaction to her question gave her reason to wonder if, as most in the Alliance believed, the official story about the Wrathgate was not the whole story. Mardenholde slowly placed her dagger back in her sheath, then reached for the bottle. "You really were gonna do it, weren't you?"

"Of course," Mardenholde retorted. "I've killed warriors of the Horde who have been spreading that rumor. Even other Forsaken."

"No honor among thieves, eh?" Florenica asked, taking the bottle once Mardenholde had poured herself some.

"You should talk," Mardenholde replied. "A noblewoman giving up her lineage to take the name of a nobody soldier who turned pirate. Even Garrosh had more honor than that!"

"I thought you Horde loved Garrosh," Florenica retorted.

"He hated the Dark Lady, and therefore he was my enemy," Mardenholde answered.

"Well, at least we can agree on our hatred for Garrosh, then, right?" Florenica asked.

"To our hatred for Garrosh," Mardenholde toasted. "May he languish in the Nameless Void."

They both drank again. After that round, Florenica looked at the bottle.

"Almost out."

"Don't worry, I have more," Mardenholde then produced a second bottle, which she placed next to them. They poured out another round for themselves.

"What's your name?" Florenica asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Mardenholde retorted.

"It's a little easier to call you by your first name rather than your last name," Florenica stated.

"Oh no, Florenica Vander Cross," Mardenholde shook her head. "I'm not getting attached to you. Remember, after this is over, it's back to business as usual between us. Besides, I don't make attachments."

"You don't?" Florenica asked. "Not even to your fellow undead?"

"Our lives, such as they are, belong to the Dark Lady," Mardenholde said. "We live or die at her will. Also we don't make friends with those we knew in life. They tend to hate and fear us greatly."

"Such a lonely life," Florenica remarked.

"I enjoy the solitude," Mardenholde stated.

"That's not true," Florenica responded.

"You know nothing about me," sneered Mardenholde, taking another sip of eggnog.

"Aside from what SI:7 knows," Florenica returned. "I know that you agreed to this, what we're doing here." She took a sip from her cup. "You must be missing having someone or we wouldn't be here."

"Such an attitude on you," grumbled Mardenholde.

"You can deny it all you want," Florenica replied. "But you know that you're tired of solitude. Even you can't live forever alone."

"There's no other option," Mardenholde sighed. "We undead find no pleasure in this world, whether in things that live, or the things that once drove us in life. Our existence is an empty, joyless one. Yet still we live on, slaves to the will of the Dark Lady."

Florenica stopped herself from responding with 'What makes you different than the Scourge, or Sylvanas different than the Lich King?', but she held her peace. It still intrigued her, the response Mardenholde had over the hint of questioning the official story about the Wrathgate. She would have to look into it more deeply. Most in the Alliance didn't believe the official story anyway, but it seemed now that there was a kernel of truth to the rumors. But for now, she rather enjoyed having someone to share a drink with, even if it was an enemy.

"You can call me Flor," she said.

"That's a stupid nickname," Mardenholde scoffed. "Might as well call yourself chair or table."

Flor didn't respond, but gave a smug grin as she poured herself another round. That same smile always annoyed the other young noblewomen she socialized with as a teenager, before the Great Fire. If Mardenholde had such a fragile ego as Sylvanas, then this would certainly get under her rotting skin.

True enough, when Mardenholde realized that her taunts were not getting through to Florenica, she scowled.

"Problem?" Flor asked. "Have I already disarmed you?"

"The Void take you," Mardenholde grumbled as she took the eggnog bottle from her. There wasn't much left in the first bottle, but there was plenty in the unopened second bottle (as well as the third one she had managed to pilfer). She swigged it straight from the bottle, then placed it on the ground before reaching for the second one. She then sighed and looked away, toward the wall.

"Hannah."

"Happy Winter's Veil, Hannah," Flor said as she poured herself some eggnog, then held the bottle titled, ready to pour for her nemesis; the only one who truly understood her. Mardenholde turned about and held up her cup to receive another round.

"Happy Winter's Veil, Flor," she said with a chuckle.

* * *

Night was falling in the warrior-city of Orgrimmar. Even here in the desert, the winter nights were very cold. Many were celebrating Winter's Veil according to their own traditions; or, if they didn't follow it as such, took part in the goblin-funded commercialized traditions of the times. The air, as always, was filled with the sound of drums beating every night. The smell of roasted pork and newly-forged steel filled the air.

The Broken Tusk was a notoriously violent tavern, but for tonight, the revelry was less violent than usual. It was Winter's Veil, and even the Orcs of Orgrimmar were feeling festive in their own way: it might also have to do with the fact that it wasn't as full as it usuall was on such nights. The tables on the upper level had been rented out for a private celebration, one which was just now starting to arrive.

First ones to appear were Zen'jamba, as well as a buxom Troll woman who had long blue hair; the main part of which fell down her back and was braided in four braids, two on either side of her face. No sooner had they appeared when a goblin dressed in black appeared from one corner of the tavern to approach them.

"There you are!" the goblin exclaimed. "Been waiting for youse guys all day. What kept ya? Did ya fall asleep or something?"

The female Troll laughed. "You be a funny one, Liddie!"

"I am, ain't I?" Liddie replied. "I should charge for my jokes. Anyway, where are the others? The only one who's showed up is that creepy tall chick in black. Ugh! If only more people understood the concept of 'time is money!'"

"Most ain't as punctual as you be," Zen'jamba added.

"Well they _should_ be!" Liddie exclaimed.

"Heyyo!" a familiar voice greeted. They turned to see a very large Pandaren, dressed in the black clothes of a brewmaster, walk into the Broken Tusk. In one hand was a staff with a gourd and tea-kettle tied to it, and under one arm was a large keg. Behind him walked a much samller Pandaren cub dressed in a pink dress.

"Chen!" exclaimed Zen'jamba. "Ya made it!"

"I couldn't resist the chance to stay at one of my favorite watering holes in all of Kalimdor," Chen Stormstout said. "But I see that we are early. Where are the others?"

"They be comin' in due time, mon," Zen'jamba stated. "Chen, Li Li, dis be Tel'jirza, me lady-friend."

"Hi there!" the little Pandaren cub greeted excitedly.

"How ya doin', little one?" Tel'jirza greeted.

"Amazing!" Li Li began, talking at the pace of a rampaging Falcosaur. "My uncle and I have been exploring all over the Broken Isles. Those Highmountain Tauren are funny; especially Moozy. I never thought I'd meet anyone who moved slower than my old uncle! All the ghosts in Aszuna were really nice to us, which, you know, is kind of strange. I mean, Night Elves generally aren't very nice to outsiders. But the whole place stank of fish!"

Just then a roar was heard from near the door. Two large Orcs with green skin walked into the tavern to the proud roared greetings of their kin. They were both of them carrying a dire-boar that was massive for humans, but just enough to be carried by both of them.

"Throm'ka, Zen'jamba," one of the two Orcs greeted. "We come bearing gifts."

"Taz dingo!" cheered Zen'jamba. "Just in time for da feast. Almost everyone be 'ere."

"Whoa!" Li Li exclaimed as she looked at the boar. "That is a very large pig!"

"Ha! And a fine fight he put up as well," the second Orc stated. He stood somewhat straighter than the other Orc, and was clad in leather, with a hunting spear upon his back.

"Plenty of time for hunting stories once we've had plenty of ale, Kron'gar," the first Orc said.

"Gar'mosh!" Chen said in greeting to the first Orc, bowing to him. "I see that you have a large bag on your back. Did you bring gifts?"

The Orc Gar'mosh nodded. "Mostly food, but a few trinkets worthy of such great warriors."

The little group made their way up the stairs to where they had saved their places. But no sooner had they arrived when the stairs behind them creaked under the heavy hoof-steps of a large Tauren. Turning around, Zen'jamba saw Gar Earthwalker standing there at the top of the stairs.

"Glad ya made it, mon!" Zen'jamba greeted. "Come, 'ave a seat. We be almost ready for da feast."

Gar followed the Troll's lead up to the tables that had been saved for them on the second level. Liddie was regaling Li Li with a story about an engineering assistant of hers who blew himself up while trying to build a shredder. Kron'gar and Gar'mosh we're preparing the boat for the feast; their muscular, green bodies obscuring the hooded figure at the back of their party's tables. Chen, who was almost as tall as Gar and easily heavier, bowed in respect to the shaman before the two of them caught each other up on their adventures. Zen'jamba and Tel'jirza were knocking tusks in a corner by themselves beneath a sprig of mistletoe.

The boar was already roasting upon the spit downstairs and still the last of their guests, according to Liddie, had yet to arrive. Zen'jamba said that they should start without them, but the goblin insisted that they hold out until the very last possible second. Almost another hour passed, and already the fruit-cake was being set at the table, along with plenty of eggnog and Smokeywood Pastures patented Greatfather Winter's Ale (and warm cider for Li Li). The Orcs were already getting impatient and demanding over and over that they start once the boar was finished, as it would soon be. Chen had already downed a whole tankard of Greatfather Winter's Ale and the late-comers hadn't arrived yet. Gar looked over at the hooded figure, who was still keeping a low profile and hadn't introduced themselves yet. He was about to approach her when Kron'gar swore loudly in Orcish.

"Always late!" growled the hunter. "It seems we'll have to have our feast without them."

"Unbelievable!" exclaimed Liddie. "What a wasted investment! Oh well, maybe I can get my gold back for their reservations."

At that very moment, a silver horn was blown just outside the Broken Tusk and an announcer heralded the arrival of the ladies Learrah and Lanael. The group upstairs looked down to see two Blood Elves strut into the Broken Tusk, as aloof as royalty. They were both rather short and had long blonde hair; one was dressed in the robes of a mage, bearing a staff in hand, and her hair tied back. The other was clad in armor and wore her hair down.

"It be about time!" Zen'jamba exclaimed. "Ya be late to da party!"

"Uh, excuse me," Lanael interjected. "We're not late; we're never late. Nothing of any interest starts until we show up."

"Absolutely," nodded Learrah.

"Get on up here!" demanded Kron'gar. "It's time to be merry!"

The Elves ascended the stairs and took their seats nearest the door. With their arrival, the party had begun in verity. Ale and eggnog were passed about freely among them, though Chen made sure that it never came close enough to Li Li; she was about that curious age where she was eager to try new things, but not yet old enough by Pandaren standards for strong drink. The Winter's Veil boar was given out freely to all, and every one of them had plenty. Meat-pies and fruit cake were also added to their fare, which they ate with delight. Chen and Gar exchanged stories over ale, laughing at the humorous details thereof. Liddie was showing off a little toy to Li Li: a tiny Greatfather Winter's flying sled that would shoot up into the air and explode in a tiny burst of red, green, white, and blue sparks. Learrah and Lanael talked with the Orcs or among themselves, but gave no heed to the Trolls. All the while, the hooded one ate very little, said nothing, and ate none of the meat dishes.

After everyone had eaten quite a bit, Zen'jamba spoke up.

"Tomorra," he said. "Dere be presents beneath da Winter's Veil tree here in Orgrimmah. But for today, dere be a special gift for one among us."

Only Tel'jirza knew exactly what Zen'jamba was planning; a knowing smile appeared on her face.

"Gar?" Zen'jamba said, turning to the Tauren. "Dis be your first present. An old friend be returned to ya."

The hooded figure stood up and motioned for the Tauren to approach. Whoever this figure was, it was almost six and a half feet tall. Gar approached the figure and bowed his head to it. Hands reached up and removed the hood from off the head. Beneath the hood was what appeared to be an elf with long red hair, fair skin, and violet eyes.

"Well met, champion," she greeted.

"Era," Gar gasped. "I...I haven't seen you in months."

"It was most appropriate that I return today," Aerastrasza replied. "For what better way to honor the rebirth of all living things than the feast of Winter's Veil?"

"Why did you leave?" he asked. "And what brought you back?"

"The druids here convinced me to return," quoth Era. "As for my departure, that is the matter of another story." She then turned to those gathered with them.

"Friends," she said. "It has been a hard and trying year, since the Burning Legion's return to Azeroth. Many dark days still lie ahead for us. But let us not forget the hope and promise of new things. The darkness will pass, and the circle continues. May the Life-binder bless all of you this coming year. Happy Winter's Veil."

"Happy Winter's Veil!" they shouted in return.

* * *

 **(AN: There we go, the end of this very short and for-fun fic.)**

 **(I wonder where I should go with this _Warcraft_ universe next. I have a story to tell that I mentioned before, but it might be too controversial to be published. Then again, we met so many people here, I wonder which of them you'd like to see more of [if any]. Feel free to comment on this and have a Happy Winter's Veil [and a Happy New Year!])**


End file.
